A Long Road Home
by Cuban Sombrero Gal
Summary: Fights, kisses, misunderstandings, children, disasters, and most of all, love. The tale of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, in 75 ficlets.
1. Only a Year Too Long

**A Long Road Home**

_(Only a Year Too Long)_

_(silence)_

"It's only a year, Ginny, only a year." The sympathy in her mother's voice is well-meaning, but all it does is help to prove to Ginny that _she does not understand. _Long, graceful fingers tear at the air as she sprints alongside the train, The Boy Who Lived – _Harry, _she corrects herself, _Harry – _and his scar etched in her mind. It's all fruitless, of course, fruitless and useless and she's only a ten year old girl, how the hell is she supposed to keep up with a train? 

The train's whistle pierces her ears, but even it cannot compete with _him. _How dare they? How dare Percy and Fred and George and Ron spend the year with Harry Potter when she can't? 

"Who knows? Maybe Ron will become friends with him, and you can meet him." There's a longing for this to happen, Ginny can tell. It's different with her mother, who hides behind maternal instinct and what she believes is best for her children, but it's definitely there. 

She sinks back into the car seat, her fingers grabbing furiously at the loose threads in the upholstery. 

"Ron, friends with _Harry Potter?" _ Ginny scoffs. "Mum, he eats like a pig. That is _never _going to impress someone like him?"  
"Ginny, please don't say such things. I know you're disappointed about not being able to go to Hogwarts, but there is no need for such behaviour." Molly Weasley implores her husband, begging him to help her control their only daughter, but he just drives on. 

It's so unfair, all of it. Ginny wants to scream, but the words become trapped in her throat, they burn her insides, and tantalise her. The rest of the car trip passes in silence. 

**---**

The next three days pass in silence, too, and it starts to unnerve Ginny. In a house of nine people – not to mention that stupid ghoul in the attic – to be the only child at home is surreal. She wonders vaguely if this is punishment, though for what she doesn't know. 

(really, the silence is only unnerving because she cannot preoocupy herself long enough to remove the face of Harry Potter from her mind)

**--- **

(a/n: Call me insane, because here is the first of my 75 prompt fics for Kyota Chan's Aboard the Love Boat challenge. Obviously, I've taken on Harry/Ginny, making me even more mental, because I have very little idea what I'm doing. However, I hope you enjoy it, and please, do leave a review. ;)

_tbc,_

_Cuba …x_


	2. Summer Breezes and Toothy Grins

**A Long Road Home**

_(Summer Breezes and Toothy Grins)_

_(Quidditch)_

It all starts off innocently enough.

The sunshine is the colour of melted butter as it hits Harry's back; he can feel it through his shirt as he spreads out in the grass, straddling Ginny between his legs. Ron lies beside him, one hand scratching the nape of his neck, the other entangled so fiercely in Hermione's hair that Harry finds it hard to tell the creamy, freckled skin and the bushy brown locks apart.

"Quidditch?" Ron asks, after what could have been several hours or possibly only a few minutes – time is so skewed now, rushing and slowing down and winding round and round, it exhausts Harry just thinking of it – with a shrug of the shoulders and a nod of the head. Eyes flicker and smiles spread as one by one, they agree. Fleur leans back against a tree, and nods to Hermione, who mumbles an agreement. There is no hate anymore, just small little shoots of friendship blossoming in a garden of unadulterated despair.

Limbs are tangled as a knotted mass of bodies topples into the broom shed – _ouch, Charlie, that's my foot – _stumbling over all manner of different objects. Harry's lips accidentally brush Ginny's cheek as he trips over a bottle of broomstick polish, and she blushes; the air is filled with a musty smell and cries of "get a room."

And then they all pour out again, an oozing puddle of sweat and flesh, with broomsticks clamped in their hands. Amidst the laughter and the chaos, no-one notices that Harry's wearing Ginny's Quidditch gloves and Bill has George's old bat, and if they notice, they probably won't care anyway. It's all summer breezes wafting through blades of grass and toothy grins that come straight from the heart. For a minute there's an illusion in which the world is nothing but a painting, yet to be tarnished by fraying canvas and graffiti in the form of R.I.P Fred.

They mount their brooms, and the game begins.

Harry adores the feeling of the Quaffle's taut leather under his fingers – he wishes it was a snitch, that it was all metal and wings that fluttered like a heartbeat. Fleur is supposedly keeping score, but she's more interested in the novel Hermione's reading, and no-one knows who's winning, nor do they care.

Harry streaks through the sky, wishing for the first time that he hadn't be so stupid as to leave his Firebolt at the Dursleys, because he's riding Charlie's old broom and he hates it. Ginny pulls up alongside him, whispering in his ear – her breath tickles his skin and he blushes like the school boy that he was so long ago – and suddenly they're swooping everywhere, bashing brooms and dodging the apples George is using as Bludgers. Ginny scores, tossing the Quaffle into the gap between the trees, and as she meets Harry's eyes, he's overcome with affection.

There's an obligatory celebration kiss, followed by more cries of disgust, and Harry can't help but feel, for the first time in months – years even – that this is perfection. It's been two months since that, since _everything, _and they're all still in pain, but as Ginny leans in again, perched precariously on her broomstick, it feels like it's been forever.

They're wrapped up in an illusion.

* * *

**a/n: Obviously, I've made the decision that this won't be in chronological order, but it will still be easy to follow, as the chapters will not be related. I'd love a review, and yeah ... **


	3. The Wrath of a Woman

**A Long Road Home**

_(The Wrath of a Woman)_

_(china)_

"There were better people for the team, that's all," Ludo Bagman stuttered, his back pushed up against the wall; it was obvious that he was afraid of Harry, who was several inches shorter and much less imposing.

"Better people?" Harry snorted in reply. "Better people!"

"Katie Bell scored seventeen goals; your girlfriend only scored eight."

Animosity radiated from both men as they faced off. Harry's office desk, what with its clutter and numerous piles of paperwork, created a much needed barrier. Ludo Bagman's defensive nature meant that he hated being questioned, and he was just itching to attack Harry.

"That's all well and good," Harry said with a sigh, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. All this arguing about nothing was simply irritating, especially when he was already late for a meeting. "I just want to know what she has to do to get onto the team."

After a lengthy pause, Bagman responded.

"There's nothing she can do," he said, giving Harry an apologetic shrug, "I've chosen the team, and the Holyhead Harpies start training next week. I understand that it's been a long time since you played, but –"

"But I can still recognise a lousy couch and a lousy liar when I see one."

"What causes you to say that," Potter? If this is because of what I did to your little friends – those scheming twins – at the Quidditch World Cup all those years ago…" It seemed, to Harry at least, that Ludo felt like a caged lion: he was a wild animal with no way to escape the searing gaze of his companion, and he was wilting under Harry's gaze.

"Fine then," Harry said, "I'll pretend I trust you, while you pretend you trust me."

"Fine," was Ludo's begrudging reply.

"So why did Ginny not even make the reserves?"

"I told you, she wasn't good enough."

"How much training would be required for her to become _good enough?" _ Harry could almost taste the venom that seeped into his voice, but he was determined to convince the portly man standing in front of him that Ginny _was _talented enough to make the team. It was obvious from his slouched demeanour and the longing in his voice that it was a long time since Bagman had been happy –either playing Quidditch or making money – and Harry could easily capitalise on that.

"Quite a bit, honestly," Bagman replied.

"In other words, she's not all that good."

"I didn't say that, not so much as that she needs a little more work."

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Ludo's dislike of him was one thing but, he reflected as he leaned over his desk for his coffee mug and took a grateful sip, there was no need to take it out on Ginny. All she wanted was a place on the team, a chance to prove herself as something more than 'the Weasley girl,' or 'Harry Potter's girlfriend,' and Ludo Bagman's pathetic grudge was doing nothing more than standing in the way of that.

He supposed he owed it to her to fight for her position in the Holyhead Harpies, anyway – he'd broken up with her, left her, abandoned her, and yet… and yet she'd still remained faithful throughout. It meant more to Harry than he could possibly express in a flurry of kisses, words and 'I love you's,' even two years after it had all happened. Call it penance, call it guilt, Harry was determined to see her onto the Holyhead Harpies.

Shaking his head slightly at his next move, Harry asked, "How much?" It was partially a rash decision, but he supposed that he'd always known this, always known that he'd do anything to make Ginny happy.

"Wha- it's not about money!" It was, of course, a lie. Harry could see the cold hard truth reflected in his eyes. Greed and Bagman went hand in hand, time had not changed that.

"Don't deny it, Bagman."

"Your girlfriend simply did not make the cut, and that's that. Don't think you can buy her a place on the team, Potter. No matter how many Triwizard Tournaments you win, you won't be able to afford it."

"You're changed a lot," Harry mused, scratching his chin in mock thoughtful ness and taking another gulp of his now lukewarm coffee. "Once, you would have been doing anything to bully or con someone out of a few Galleons."

"I-I-I," Ludo stuttered in return. He was clearly succumbing to the lure of the money, to the promise of better lodgings and better food than his current Gringotts account served him with. "I suppose we can make a deal," he said finally, bowing his head immediately so that he didn't have to look into Harry's eyes.

"Will two hundred Galleons be sufficient?" Harry asked quickly, his mind now less on convincing Bagman and more on the meeting that he had missed.

"That will be fine."

"Excellent."

Harry quickly opened his money bag, allowing a small scattering of Galleons to spill across the table. He surveyed them, his bright green eyes focused on counting them – five, ten, fifteen, twenty.

"I'll have the rest delivered to your bank account as soon as possible," he said, gesturing to Bagman that he should take the gold. Bagman scooped it up quickly, as though he was worried Harry would go back on his offer.

"Of course."

With a final disgusted glance at Bagman – he almost felt as though he should be disgusted with himself too, for such behaviour, but he reminded himself that it was for Ginny – Harry stormed out, his robes swishing behind him.

**--**

"How dare you?" Ginny screeched the moment Harry wandered in the front door that evening. Her eyes were blazing with fury as she stared them down; they held an anger that she could not express through mere words. As her voice died down to a breathless whisper, Harry could hear every single one of her emotions.

"How dare I what? It always helps when you explain things, dear."  
"You know all too well."

Harry started, realising too late what she was referring to. His face turned a deep shade of red as he began to mumble, struggling to come up with a coherent explanation. In the heat of the moment, it had been so easy to turn that money bag upside down, to watch the coins fall like shooting stars and then watch Bagman grasp them eagerly, but he hadn't given any thought to Ginny's reaction.

"Look," he said finally, "I just wanted-"

"Just wanted an excuse to flash your money around and prove that you can change people for the _better, _I think." Ginny drew a sharp breath, blowing a stray lock of vibrant red hair from her face. She continued to glower, and Harry found _himself _wilting this time, melting away into a quivering puddle of confusion.

"That's the one thing I can assure you Ginny," Harry said. "I did it for you, not to make myself look better."

"For me?"

For a single moment, time seemed to stop still, Harry's utter confusion radiated from every inch of his skin: why was she so… mad, he wondered. He'd only been trying to help her, to show her what she meant to him.

"I didn't need your help, Harry," Ginny said. Her voice was quiet now, more refined, and yet it still shook Harry to his very core. "Right after Ludo flooed me, I got an owl from the assistant coach of the Tornadoes."

"And-"

"And they offered me a place on the term. Apparently they were so impressed with my final games at Hogwarts that they agreed to take me on without a trial, because Katrina Ellis is out for over a year with some weird reaction to a potion."

"I just wanted to help," Harry repeated again feebly. "I didn't know about the Tornadoes."

"Wrong move," Ginny hissed, her eyes seeming to widen even further with fury than they had before. "Did you think I was too useless to make it on my own? That I couldn't make it onto a team without your name and your money… Well I have news for you; you couldn't make it without _me. _I'm the one who got left behind, the one who you relied on so much in those first few weeks, and now… Men and their bloody money."

Harry made to respond, but had to rapidly duck, Ginny had snatched a plate off the table and swung it at him; he could feel the wall shake as it fell to the floor with a crash, shattering everywhere."

"Gin-"

"Don't you Ginny me. I've had enough. After all the shit you've put me through, you do _this."_

"Just don't take the job," Harry tried to reason. "Then no-one can comment." He ducked again, as a coffee mug come flying through the air, a deadly torpedo of floral china and absolute wrath.

"Just don't take the job! Of all the… You don't get it, do you?" she said, leaning against the table, her face was as bright as her hair and she was panting for breath – emotion had overwhelmed her. "It'll be all over the tabloids tomorrow, it won't matter which job I take, people will say that you helped me into it."  
"Look Ginny, I'm sorry. I really didn't think."

"That's for sure," she shouted, taking his momentary lapse in awareness as a chance to throw yet another plate at her; this one shattered with a deafening crash, one of the shards landing right beside Harry foot. Hastily, he moved away from the wall, wondering if the open doorway would provide any more protection. He'd seen enraged women before – neither he nor Ron would ever forget Hermione's birds back in sixth year – but this was nothing short of insane.

"I really didn't mean to offend you," Harry said, staring her right in the eyes, imploring her to realise that he meant it.  
"I know you didn't Harry, but… you still should have thought. Would you like people to buy your happiness?" She stared back with equal intensity, edging away from the table, which Harry found a good sign.

"Of course not. I… I just wanted to make it up to – after everything I put you through, I just wanted to apologise."

"There was no need for that. I know you didn't mean it." Anger still flittered through Ginny's eyes, but it was slowly subsiding, which made Harry a little more confident. He could see where she was coming from, and it had been at all possible, he would have demanded that Bagman return the gold and revoke her position immediately, but that was impossible, and he was going to have to live with the consequences. "I know that you were just doing the _noble _thing, and I understood that, after a while. At first… but eventually, I dealt with it, and now you've just screwed it all-"

She stopped short as Harry captured her lips in a passionate kiss, his hands entwined in her hair and her shirt. For a moment, she fought against it, before succumbing and allowing herself to kiss him back.

As they pulled apart, Harry still knew that he had to make it up to her somehow – he _really _hadn't thought any of this through, but for now, at least she wasn't throwing china any more.

**--**

**As you can see, this one's a lot longer than the previous chapters - each one will be a different length. I'm not a major fan of the ending, but I like the meat of this chapter, and I'd love a review. ;)**


	4. Reborn

**A Long Road Home**

_(Reborn)_

_(memory)_

At first, it's all just a vivid dream.

_Well, it's more than that_, Ginny thinks, because surely normal dreams don't make you moan in ecstasy and hide your rapidly reddening face under the covers. In her dream – or is it a vision? A memory? – Harry and her are pressed against one another, passion sandwiched between them and he's muttering _"that's the silver lining I've been looking for."  
_

She tumbles from her restless sleep after that, muttering an incoherent explanation to Rebecca for her almost guttural moans, and props herself up against her pillow, pondering this strange occurrence.

This is insane. _Completely, utterly, one-hundred-freaking-percent _insane. It's not that she's never dreamt of Harry before; she's been doing that since before _that _Quidditch match was even conceived in Madam Hooch's mind. The difference is in the effect this memory is having upon her. It's tearing her apart, teasing her, tantalizing her, feeding on the very real horror that she might never experience anything like this ever again.

It's the most intense memory she has of Harry, his soft lips, his disheveled hair, his charming smile, and yet, it might be the last memory she'll ever receive; she doesn't know.

Ginny Weasley must do something, no _anything_ to keep the memory of Harry alive.

--

The idea comes to her the next morning in Double Potions – regrettably, Snape's still the teacher, as though filling the position of a man he killed wasn't egotistical enough.

With deft speed, Ginny tosses Luna a note; it narrowly misses the back of Snape's head as he scowls at Michael Corner's potion, before Luna snatches it out of midair and tucks it under her textbook, her confused aura making her feat all the more impressive.

_Luna,_

_You still got your coin?_

_Ginny xx_

Luna raises an eyebrow and brushes a strand of dirty blonde hair from her face. The only question her eyes ask as they grow wider than ever is: _really? _

Ginny answers with a simple nod: _yes, _she whispers, _yes. _

The DA has been reborn from the ashes, like the Phoenix that Harry's working so hard to fight for.

She only hopes her memories can undergo the same sort of reinvigoration as it has.

* * *

**To sound like a broken record, sorry for the lack of updates. I've just finished an intensive week of testing at school - just tomorrow's English test to go, thank God - so writing time has been scarce and I haven't felt much like writing when time _did _decide to be kind. I've planned out some further chapters though, and they're looking like being a whole lot longer than this one, so stay turned, and in the meantime: please review. It makes me very happy...  
**


	5. Embarrassment

**A Long Road Home**

_(Embarrassment)_

_(Butterbeer)_

As Ginny stumbles over the threshold into Grimmauld Place, she wonders if this is possible, if you can _really _be drunk on Butterbeer. Harry's beside her, every bit inebriated as she herself feels – what on earth did Madam Rosmerta do to the Butterbeer? – singing along to himself in a language she thinks is French. The house is every bit as macabre and spooky as it was in broad daylight, and she makes a mental note in what little available brain space is left to find an expert in removal charms, because they seriously need to get rid of those shrunken elf heads.

Harry continues to sing, his body swaying as he climbs the staircase, and it strikes Ginny that he really must be drunk, because he usually shudders every time he sees the elves – they remind him too much of Dobby, which leads to Malfoy Manor and Peter Pettigrew and Death Eaters and everything he's ever seen and experienced. They both hate this house, with all its pureblood paraphernalia and its foreboding air that seems to wrap them in doom like a thick winter blanket of fog, but staying at Ron and Hermione's is nothing short of sickening what with their recent engagement, and no-one wants to go near George and their mother right now, because it's impossible to let a fight about Angelina fall upon deaf ears when you've heard it a million and one times before.

"Harry, calm down. I think you need a sobering up potion and some sleep." Ginny feels woozy herself, the room is blurry and unfocussed before her eyes, but Harry's head swoops closer and closer to the walls with every twirl of his flailing limbs, and she figures she ought to deal with him before he breaks something and they undergo the maniacal shrieking of Mrs. Black yet again.

"Ginny." Harry topples forward, trapping her lithe frame under his body; his breath is heavy on her face and his head is crushing her arm. "I lo-o-ve you."

Normally, Ginny would be more than happy to oblige him with a kiss at hearing these words from him, but now, all she can think is _damn Ron for deciding to have celebratory engagement drinks _and _damn Harry for his stupid propriety and loyalty and his need to appease my brother. _

"I love you too, Harry," she mutters, wondering when _she _became the responsible one, "but right now, you need to go to bed." She moves to help him up, twisting herself before she becomes suffocated by the stench of alcohol on his breath, but before she can truly respond, her lips collide with her cheek and he lays his quivering lips upon her and kisses upon her neck, her cheeks, her chest.

Ginny knows he's still drunk, that this is just alcohol talking and that in the morning he'll ashamedly apologise for taking advantage of her in anyway possible, but for now she can't help but give in, as his kisses become more and more frequent. This isn't the Harry she knows, slightly arrogant but very cautious, as though one wrong move, one wrong touch might break her porcelain skin – "I'm not that fragile, Harry," she mutters every time – _this _Harry is reckless and insane and _Oh Merlin, that feels good. _

She's as drunk on adrenalin as that most-probably-spiked-by-Lee-Butterbeer now, and she gives in completely; they topple on the couch in a tangle of rumpled clothing and they're just getting started and then there's that awful screech that just about mutilates her ear: "filthy Mudbloods and blood traitors, procreating in the house of my forbearers!"

They both groan in unison, sitting up and blushing at the sight of their bare skin; Ginny self-consciously pushes her bra strap back up onto her shoulder as she scrambles off the couch and mumbles that she'll go and shut that fucking portrait up.

It's not that they've never seen each other naked before – no matter what Molly thinks, they're not innocent little children but perfectly normal nineteen and twenty year olds, with perfectly normal interests that don't include knitting – it's more that before, it's been controlled and planned. They've been through so much that neither of them wants to add unplanned pregnancies and diseases to a list that includes sadness, death and war.

Now, everything's moving so fast and they're so caught up in the passion, and while she likes the excitement of it all, she kind of misses the old Harry, the one that asked a million times before making any move at all. That Harry was predictable sure, but cute, and this Harry is just drunk.

Ginny stumbles downstairs, silences the portrait, scurries back up to Harry, and then wonders what to do next. The inebriation is pushing Harry past reckless to tired, and all the magic that inspired their flurry of arms and legs and kisses is gone. Now, they're left with nothing but their embarrassment and a pile of mismatched clothing.

"What happened?" Harry asks, shaking his head either in disbelief or a futile attempt to remove the onset of a hangover.

"I don't know. But I enjoyed it…"

She did, now that she thinks back to just a few minutes ago. This embarrassment is just a part of being them – everyone at Hogwarts called her a slut, but what would they say if they knew she was like this, especially when given the chance to jump the great Harry Potter? – because they have no prior experience, nothing to dictate how this relationship should go, and until now, they've avoided making a hash of it.

Ginny isn't even sure why this is such a big deal, it's no different to what they do every other night without fail, just with a little more alcohol and a little less planning, and now they're staring at each other as if to say _what the hell was that? _

"Maybe," Harry suggests shyly, still wobbling his head around in confusion, "maybe… we can try again."

"I'd like that."

Ginny knows that this is what normal couples would consider boring, this lack of spontaneous decision making and wild bedroom (or couch) activity, but she and Harry are far from a normal couple, and quite frankly, she likes it that way.

* * *

**Ok, so this is insane. Completely and utterly insane, and I'm loving every minute of all this writing that seems to just be spurting from my fingers. :) Hopefully you're loving it too, and please let me know if you are (or aren't). Reviews are the only payment fanfic authors receive, after all. **


	6. With Everything in the World

**A Long Road Home**

_(With Everything in the World)  
_

_(parchment)_

Dear Harry,

I know you probably have a lot on your plate right now, but I… I couldn't let you go without saying goodbye. Albus misses you already; he's sitting on my lap crying and asking for Daddy, although James is too busy with the broom my stupid brother bought him to really care. Sorry about that…

It's times like this I wish I was Hermione, you know, because she always knows what to put on parchment, without making it too flowery or formal. Maybe it's all those Muggle English lessons? There's a lot I could say, but I don't know if this letter will be intercepted either, so maybe it's for the best.

Lots of love,

Ginny, James and Albus

xxx

**--**

Ginny,

Just a quick note to let you know I arrived in Australia. Tell James I haven't seen a kangaroo yet, and tell Ron that if James breaks his neck, I'm going to tell Bill what he said about Fleur in fourth year. I'll write again as soon as Neville and I have dealt with this uprising. He says to tell you that Hannah says chamomile tea is great for pregnancy, by the way.

Love,

Harry

**--**

Dear Harry,

Tell Neville that Hannah's idea worked wonders. I would have preferred a nice strong cup of coffee, but like most things, it's not good for the baby. At least a certain activity isn't off-limits… yet. Oh crap, I've cursed us by saying that, haven't I?

Ron and Hermione have been popping around lots, but it's just not the same, you know. Albus has taken to calling her 'Aunt Hermy,' which leads to some inside joke between her and my darling brother about giants. Care to explain? James' newest phase is the stuffed dragon that Charlie sent him, along with the big box of chocolate that he swears is _not _for my hormones or my loneliness. I think having a stuffed Hungarian Horntail breathe on me just made me more depressed.

What's Australia like? James asked the other day if it was as far away as Dorset, and I told him it was as far as the moon. So now he waves to "you" every night. I hope the mission is going well, and say hi to Neville and Kingsley for me.

All my love,

Your wife, Ginny

PS. Buy James a boxing kangaroo, will you? He seems to think they're "more awesome" than the normal hopping ones.

**--**

Dear Ginny,

It's nice to finally be able to sit down and right to you. I've missed you so much, possibly even more than I did all those years ago, because I know I already have you and my family, and it would hurt more than ever to lose you.

The uprising has nearly been silenced. It's just some stupid wizards who seem to think their Aussie expatriates didn't get enough credit for helping out during the battle. Apparently, trying to reinvent the terror of Voldemort's reign will get them the recognition they deserve. This isn't the world I fought for, and I'm determined to make it right. We've caught all of them except the ring-leader, and we have it on good authority that he's somewhere in Queensland. I guess even the evil deserve a little sunshine.

I can't say any more than that, so make sure you pass on my love to the boys and to our baby. I can't believe I'm missing your pregnancy, but I promise I'll be home soon. James' kangaroo is on the way, the Ministry owls are too weak to send big parcels.

The giant story: in our fifth year, Hagrid thought it might be fun to leave his half-brother in the Forbidden Forest. Grawp liked uprooting trees and took a liking to 'Hermy'.

Yours always,

Harry

**--**

Harry!

We're having a girl. I didn't want to spoil it for you, but I didn't know when you'd be home and by then it would be obvious because Angelina's volunteered to paint her room pink and finally get around to removing those disgusting posters of Sirius'. Who would have known your godfather was such a pervert? I'm so excited… I love James and Albus and all, but it'll be nice to have a daughter that I can let grow up the way I never did, with dolls and stuff. I'll feel sorry for her when she meets her future husband though, having been through the older brother thing. Maybe I'm getting too far ahead of myself?

I hope you come home soon. She (it feels so wonderful to say that), has been kicking heaps, and…

Great, James' stupid kangaroo has punched Albus in the face again. When I said for you to buy him one, I meant a stuffed animal, not anything _that bloody big. _I better go deal with it.

Love always,

Ginny xx

**--**

Dear Ginny,

Neville and I are coming home this week. We rounded Zabini up (he's related to Blaise through one of his mother's other husbands, apparently), and we just have to help Kingsley gather enough evidence so the Wizengamot can send him to Azkaban before we can leave. Australia was lovely, even though we didn't see much of it. Even if I'd have liked to, there were girls in bikinis lining up outside my door. Don't worry, there's no need to get jealous. I showed Neville how to use the Muggle DVD player, and we spent the whole week inside watching Back to the Future.

I've bought Albus a stuffed koala to keep him happy, and Neville says _he warned me _about the kangaroo. Feel free to tell Ron to stop laughing, just because he's jealous that James likes my present better than his, and I'll see you soon.

Lots of love,

Harry

PS. Say hi to Luna for me, will you? I ran into her boyfriend here in Australia, and he said that Luna was going home for a few days to visit.

PPS. Athena just sent a letter. Any idea why Hermione's writing to me when she usually just forwards everything through you?

**--**

Harry,

Ginny's water broke. She's on the seventh floor at St Mungos. James and Albus are with Fleur.

Hermione.

**--**

Be right there.

Harry

**--**

Ginny,

I don't actually know where to start. I've always been good at knowing the right words, but then I met you, and you seem to take them away a lot. I love you. If anything happens, know that. I love you.

The healers say there are complications. I'm not sure what that means, exactly, but Hermione's face says it all. I don't think I can cross my fingers anymore. You can't die. You can't. I went to Australia to make this world a better place for you and our family.

Luna says her travels have shown her a plant that will make you better. She's trying to convince the Healers to let her use it. Hopefully, it works. If you survive, the baby's middle name is to be Luna.

I love you, Ginny. I love you.

With everything in the world,

Harry

* * *

**I'm back from holidays, and writing again. -cheers-  
**

**This was a lot of fun to write, so I'm hoping you enjoyed the different style. One of the things I never understood was the choice of Luna as Lily's middle name, which is where the end of this story came from, so I'm going to be covering that again, in greater detail. In the meantime, a well deserved thanks to respitechristopher, for his H/G fic recs that got me in the writing mood, to Lexie H, whose wonderful H/G story also encouraged me to come back to this, and to everyone who leaves a review. **


	7. The Difference Between Histories

**A Long Road Home**

_(The Difference Between Histories  
_

_(candle)_

They light a candle every May 2nd in memory. Ginny says it's for Fred, for Colin, for Remus and Tonks and the numerous others who died on their behalf and Harry nods along, but really, it's for them. It's their way of remembering the past as it was, untainted and summery, one perfect day after another.

Shadows fall on their face and they grin, toppling backwards as they fall head over heals for each other again and again. It's bittersweet, this love; Ginny's kisses taste like sorrow and Fred's favourite brand of marmalade (she's only eating it because she doesn't know how to let go).

Harry owes the fallen for so much more than his life. He owes them for Ginny's.

They float in limbo, trapped somewhere between Heaven and Hell. This is not yet modern history, because they cannot move forward, but ancient history was three years and a broken, tumbling wall ago.

_This _is Harry and Ginny, falling for each other in the absence of their loved ones and fighting their way towards the future (only they don't need no Trojan horses or samurai swords to win.) (they only need each other.)

The last candle fades away.


	8. Untitled

**A Long Road Home**

_(Untitled)_

_(untouched)_

Harry and Ginny get married twice. One means everything and one means almost nothing, and they cherish both for completely different reasons.

The first time is one day before her twenty-first birthday, on a little promontory somewhere in Northern Ireland. Her wedding dress, plain and white, rustles in the wind, and Harry scoops her up in his arms. They run along the beach, their bare feet dancing as they twirl around the imprints left by the waves. It's cold and salty and her dress is ruined; the material clings to her skin like bedclothes, all tangled and sweaty and exposing (not that Harry seems to mind).

They cling to the serenity for one last night, gently making love by the fireside until dawn, when the day breaks.

It all reminds Harry of heaven, until it collapses around them just in time for their second wedding.

They hide out in their beach shack after breakfast, kissing each other passionately amongst the dirty dishes.

"Great housewife you're going to make," Harry teases, and Ginny just pokes out her tongue.

"Just because I'm going to kick so much arse at Quidditch that everyone will forget that you're the youngest Seeker in a century."

"That's true."

They banter about Quidditch and when Ron and Hermione will get married all the way home, driving straight into the middle of chaos (now they know why they didn't apparate).

--

Like Kings Cross Station on September 1st, the Burrow is in a constant state of motion and disarray. Reporters swarm around, quills scratching and questions flying and Harry's busy trying to find where he packed his suit. Hermione has it, and he slides it on, does the tie up until he chokes, stands at the alter.

"Do you, Harry Potter, hereby take Miss Ginevra Weasley to be your lawfully wedded wife?"  
"I do."

This wedding, it's all about pomp and propriety and pleasing the media. Harry locks his fingers into Ginny's and whispers in her ear, "you make a good actor, you know."

She blushes, and Harry can almost hear Rita Skeeter twitching to write an article about the sordid love life of the Boy Who Lived.

The day spins around them in a never ending circle of greetings and well wishes and "could we have an interview, please?" It tastes like Mrs. Weasley's best wedding cake and Hermione's tears of joy and at the end of the day, they wonder if it was worth it.

It was of course, but really, they like their privacy so much better.

Like their first wedding, when it was ust Harry and Ginny, untouched by the world.

* * *

**I actually wrote this before I left, but I've only found time to post it now. I'm too tired to do a lot of writing right now, so I figured I'd post it to keep you all happy while you wait for the next update. I'd love a review, especially if you have a suggestion for the title.**

**Cubie xx**


End file.
